


with you under the mistletoe

by lecornergirl



Series: 100 percent pure holiday fluff [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 100 percent pure holiday fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecornergirl/pseuds/lecornergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only kills her a little bit that he’s put up mistletoe all over their apartment, swooping in to kiss her on the cheek every time he walked past her under yet another one that she hadn’t noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with you under the mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> title from justin bieber's mistletoe because i do what i want (also it was on the radio shh)

Clarke’s not super into Christmas, but she’s 100% not surprised that Bellamy is. In the just under a year they’ve lived together, she’s pretty sure she’s celebrated more holidays than ever before in her life. Or maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but she’d definitely never known someone could be that into Easter.

She’s just glad they have the same (practically non-existent) religious background, because she’s pretty sure that if she’d come with obscure holidays and traditions Bellamy would have looked them up and tried to celebrate them with her. She’s still a little surprised he hasn’t tried to celebrate Diwali, or Eid, and that so far his holiday decorating doesn’t seem to have veered into Chrismukkah territory.

Bellamy moved in with her almost a year ago, when Anya moved to New York and she needed a new roommate. She hadn’t known him very well—she was friends with Octavia, and he hung out with them sometimes—but they weren’t more than acquaintances when O suggested Clarke ask him to move in with her. Acquaintances who squabbled a lot, granted, but it was usually in a (mostly) friendly manner.

“You need a roommate, he’s been wanting to move out of that shitty apartment for months now, it would be perfect,” she’d said, and Clarke couldn’t argue. “Plus, I think you two would get on well if you tried.”

She turned out to be right; Clarke and Bellamy got along like a house on fire. By the end of his first month living with her, Clarke considered him one of her closest friends.

That’s when the trouble began, really. It was too easy for her to subconsciously slip from considering him one of her closest friends to realising that she was stupidly in love with him.

Most of the time it’s fine. She can deal with it. Really. It only killed her a little bit to cook Thanksgiving dinner for all of their friends with him, their cooperation so seamless they might as well have choreographed it beforehand.

It only kills her a little bit that he’s put up mistletoe all over their apartment, swooping in to kiss her on the cheek every time he walked past her under yet another one that she hadn’t noticed.

Wells keeps telling her to grow a pair and tell him, but. There are too many things that can go wrong. Clarke Griffin doesn’t make serious life decisions without weighing up the pros and cons, and these cons definitely outweigh the pros.

True, if it worked out, she’d get an awesome boyfriend. But if she tells him and he’s not into it, not only will she probably have to stop being friends with him, one of them would have to move out as well. And neither of those are things she’s willing to risk.

So she flops down on the sofa next to him as usual and doesn’t say a word, only reaching over to grab the remote so she can change the channel from whatever documentary he was watching. He huffs, but only hands her a candy cane as she settles on one of those Lifetime Christmas movies no one will admit to liking but everyone loves anyway.

She unwraps the candy cane, sucking on the long end distractedly. Bellamy shifts a little next to her and she leans into him, letting him wrap an arm around her. She’s pretty sure she’s going to fall asleep on him eventually, but that wouldn’t be anything new. So when Bellamy takes the candy cane out of her mouth and gruffly says “that’s enough of that, Princess,” she assumes it’s so she doesn’t fall asleep with the candy cane in her mouth and potentially cause all kinds of damage to her teeth and the sofa.

It’s only a few minutes later that she processes his tone of voice, and for a split second she wonders if maybe he took the candy cane because he didn’t want to be tempted by watching her sucking on it. But she’s learned to shut these thoughts down pretty quickly, and doesn’t allow herself to linger on it for very long.

It may or may not feature in her dream when she eventually does fall asleep on Bellamy, though.

* * *

By the time Christmas Eve rolls around, Clarke’s gotten used to the steady stream of cheek kisses under the constantly moving mistletoe. Once, when they were drunk, she tried to kiss him on the mouth, but he turned his face at the last second. She doesn’t think about that.

He’s busy wrapping his final presents, and she’s only allowed to be in the living room if she stays between him and the television and keeps her eyes on the TV at all times. They’re sitting back to back, watching some old movie they’ve both seen enough times that he can recite the lines to her despite not even facing the screen. It’s ridiculously domestic, and it would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that Clarke is, at this point, pretty much constantly aware of how much she wants to kiss him.

“All done,” he announces, and Clarke can imagine him putting the final flourish on a bow as he says it. “You can look now.”

But Clarke makes no move to turn around, waiting instead until he gets up. Without Bellamy to prop her up, she falls onto the floor, spread-eagled.

Predictably, directly in her line of sight is a sprig of mistletoe. Sighing, she closes her eyes, listening to Bellamy try to arrange his gifts under the tree. Their friends are coming over for dinner tomorrow, and after Clarke wrapped all of her presents there wasn’t a lot of space left under their tiny tree. He seems to manage it, however, because she hears him walk back over and sit down next to her.

She doesn’t open her eyes as he says “hey, look, at that, mistletoe,” or when she feels him lean over towards her.

She does, however, open them in surprise when he takes her face in his hands and kisses her. Properly, this time.

“Bellamy—” she says at the same time as he starts to apologise. “I’m sorry, I hope that was okay, I just—”

She cuts him off by pulling him back down to her. She’s still lying on the floor; pretty soon he is too, propping himself up on his elbows so he won’t crush her.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he says, and she pokes his side.

“Then why didn’t you? We could have been doing that all this time.”

He laughs. “I didn’t think you’d be into it, honestly, and I didn’t want to risk it.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

“I’ve been told,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss her nose.

“So, what changed? I assume it’s not just because I’m so irresistible.”

“Well, I mean, I had some pretty strong signals that you wouldn’t kick me to the curb if I did. Like the candy cane thing. Did you know you sleep-talk?”

Clarke’s pretty sure her face is redder than the candy cane. “Yeah, okay, but you can’t pretend you weren’t into me eating that candy cane. Why else would you have taken it away from me?”

“No comment,” he says primly, and she laughs.

“Okay, but what about when I tried to kiss you last week and you completely blanked me?”

He brings a hand up to her cheek again. “You were drunk—we were drunk. I didn’t want to… I didn’t think I could handle it if all you wanted was a drunken hook-up.”

She smiles bigger than she has all evening. “Have I got news for you,” she says, and the look on his face is the best thing she’s ever seen. “I have been stupidly in love with you since at least, like, March. And that’s the conservative estimate.”

“Oh, thank God,” he says. “That would have been really awkward otherwise. I was half in love with you before even moving in, and it just got worse from there.”

“So what you’re saying is we could have theoretically been making out on the floor for almost a year at this point?”

“God, we’re stupid,” he groans. “But hey, guess what? Instead of making out on the floor, we could also be making out on a bed right now.”

“Excellent point,” she says, reaching up to kiss him quickly. “I know for a fact that your bed is more comfortable than mine, dibs on that.”

“No arguments here,” he says, getting up and reaching down to pick her up so he can carry her to his room.

It’s not his room for much longer, though; as soon as they’ve recovered from the Christmas food coma, they move all of Clarke’s things into it and convert her room into a study. It’s only practical.


End file.
